


remember the day i set you free

by owilde



Series: shadowhunters historical AUs (various pairings) [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 60's, Anti-war Movement referenced, Drinking & Talking, Falling In Love, Historical References, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, i mean somewhat, snippets of life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 13:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12959946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: "God," Alec giggles into his glass of white wine, "that's stupid.""No," Magnus argues, moving a chess piece forward. "That'screative.""Isn't that the same thing?" Alec asks, trying not to laugh.





	remember the day i set you free

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh so i was listening to my 60's playlist, and--
> 
> title taken from "ain't no mountain high enough" by marvin gaye and tammi terrell
> 
> i did not proof-read this, let me tell you

**January 14** **th** , **1967 – San Francisco, Golden Gate Park – Human Be-In**

 

Alec feels distinctively uncomfortable in the crowd. There are arms brushing against him and hips knocking against his, and it's kind of cold – the ground's frozen, he thinks, or at least it looks like it. He can't count the number of people, but it's a lot. Too many. Alec knows it's for a good cause, it  _is_ , but it doesn't help ease the tightness in his chest. He pushes his arms into the pockets of his coat and feels his shoulders lift towards his ear, tense and wired.

There's the sensation of music coming from the centre of the crowd, and Alec thinks he can make out a makeshift stage and a band playing  _something_. It sounds sort of fun, and Alec wishes he could mingle further, but he doesn't dare. Further in he'd be trapped in the masses. Right now, the outskirts feel just fine.

"It's the Grateful Dead," a voice shouts from somewhere beside him.

Alec turns his head to look – and stops. It's a man, a little older than him, with loud hair and even louder make-up. He's grinning, a little maniacally, and Alec immediately thinks,  _acid_. He sways on his feet, not in tune with the music; that doesn't seem to bother him. He has flowers in the lapels of his washed jean jacket.

"What?" Alec asks back. He can't seem to stop staring.

"The band," the man replies happily. "It's the Grateful Dead. This is their first—thing. Album. It's good stuff, isn't it?"

Alec nods unsurely. He finds his fingers tapping a rhythm against the side of his leg, almost unconsciously. "Yeah," he agrees, "good stuff."

The man grins, teeth showing. He glances at something behind Alec and his eyes widen for a few seconds – then he breaks into giggles, and some of the glitter on his lids flutters off. It's blue and purple, which shouldn't compliment his green tinted eyes at all, but somehow does. Somehow, everything about the man seems to  _work_ , in a way that Alec doesn't think he ever has or ever will.

"I'm Magnus," the man tells him, still giggling a little. He sobers up and offers Alec his hand with a small bow. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Alexander," Alec says, shaking the offered hand. He notices the splashes of paint all over Magnus' arms, some stuck on top of his black nail polish. An artist, he guesses. Everyone seems to be, these days. "Call me Alec, though."

Magnus withdraws his hand and crosses his arms, a smile playing on his lips. "Alexander," he says decisively. "A pleasure."

"You said that already," Alec feels the need to point out. This is nothing he hasn't seen before – Jace has a habit of coming home, tripping like he's on a different sphere entirely. Sometimes it's a nuisance, sometimes it's amusing. Izzy and Alec have a made a game of it recently. Izzy, who has thus far strayed away from drugs, because clearly, she is smarter than Alec and Jace combined. Which she is. She has the brains to do anything she could ever want, and Alec knows she will, so long as there's someone in her corner to support her. He fully intends to be that person, for as long as he can.

"Said what?" Magnus asks. His smile turns strange, like he knows something that Alec doesn't, and isn't willing to share. Almost like a child who's learned a secret. It's a different form of strange than Alec's used to, but he doesn't mind.

"Forget it," Alec says, brushing the question aside. There's commotion as the band leaves the stage and another one comes on. The crowd around them cheers. Magnus joins the noise, whistling loudly and laughing, bright and bubbly. He looks free.

Someone hits Alec in his ribs with their elbow, and then turns around to apologise profusely. He waves the  _I'm sorry's_  aside, and the person turns back to weave a flower crown on someone else's head. Alec watches the colours and wonders if he could convince Izzy to try making some with him.

Apparently, Magnus has noticed him staring. "Do you want a flower crown?" He asks. He's watching Alec intensively, fidgeting with his hands like he doesn't quite know what to do. "I think it'd look nice."

Alec eyes him in silence. "Sure," he eventually says. He lets a small smile break on his face. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Magnus lights up. He glances around them at the crowd, and pulls a face. "We should go sit," he decides. Before consulting Alec, he grabs his hand and begins to drag him away from the mass of people and further from the centre of the gathering.

They find a quiet spot under a tree and sit down. Magnus begins plucking the best-looking dandelions from the ground around them. Alec sits still, watching him.

There's a certain energy around Magnus that Alec can't place. It's carefree, but still strung high with nerves, like he's a badly tuned guitar that just needs some work before it can be played in the right way. Alec shakes his head and rips grass in small batches. If he flexes his fingers he can throw them all the way to where his knee is. His other leg is bent beneath the one that is stretched straight.

It takes him over fifteen minutes, but Magnus manages to weave the dandelions into something resembling a flower crown. He presents it with another small bow. Alec can't help the smile blooming on his face because of the silly gesture.

"A crown," Magnus says, placing the flowers on top of Alec's head, "for a queen."

"A queen?" Alec asks with amusement.

Magnus shrugs, smiling lopsidedly. "Haven't you heard? They were shouting about it before – women are the future."

Alec thinks about his sister and his mother, both strong-willed and both unbelievably resilient, both so important to him. "Yeah," he says with a smile, "I think I've heard that."

 

**January 20** **th** **, 1967 – San Francisco, Bernal Heights**

 

"God," Alec giggles into his glass of white wine, "that's stupid."

"No," Magnus argues, moving a chess piece forward. "That's  _creative_."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Alec asks, trying not to laugh. He's still smiling too much, and he's drunk (too much) and he's enjoying himself – too much.

The chess board in set between the two of them on the floor of Magnus' apartment. Their shoes are discarded somewhere by the door. The windows are open, and the bright orange curtains flow freely with the winter breeze. Magnus says he wants to keep the windows open for clean energy.

Alec's leaning his other hand against the floor, and holding his wine glass with the other. His coat lays next to him. His silk shirt has too many buttons open, and his sunglasses are hanging from the low collar. His jeans – light, and a size too small – feel perfectly uncomfortable.

Magnus gaps in feigned shock, and pushes another piece forward. "Creativity is the beginning of all," he says. He takes a drag from his cigarette and tries to blow it into a smoke ring. Alec thinks it's possibly the most adorable thing he's even seen. Magnus is wearing a vertically striped red and blue sweater with tweed pants. Alec's never been more attracted to tweed in his life—and  _god_ , he's drunk.

"No," Alec says, sipping from his glass. "Creativity is just an excuse to act as one wants to."

"Isn't that what's important?" Magnus counters, lifting a brow. He's trying to balance his cigarette and his glass; some ash scatters on his floor, missing the ash tray by a long mile. He doesn't seem to mind. "To act as you truly want to, not as the society tells you to?"

Alec shrugs. "I guess. But what if you don't know how you want to act?"

Magnus smirks. He stumps the cigarette and downs the rest of his wine. "Isn't that the fun of it all?"

"You ask an awful lot of questions," Alec mumbles. He moves his knight in a move he thinks isn't allowed at all, but he's quite forgotten the rules by now. Magnus doesn't say anything; instead, he eats one of his pawns. Alec lets out a discouraged noise.

"You're awfully curious," Magnus says. He smiles smugly at the board, staring at the very unevenly distributed amounts of pieces eaten. On Alec's side, three white pieces. On Magnus' side, nine black ones. "I think I might win," he adds gleefully.

"You think?" Alec asks sardonically. He finishes his glass and sets it aside. "I think you might be right."

They finish the game quickly. Magnus wins, and does a small dance of victory that involves stealing Alec's new scarf and waving it around, imitating the movement of a tide. Alec laughs, despite his intentions, and tries to grab his scarf back.

Magnus takes a step backwards, holding the scarf just out of reach.

"Come on," Alec says, stepping closer. Magnus takes another step back. "Magnus, give me my scarf."

"Nah," Magnus grins, waving the scarf again. "Come and get it."

Alec does. They end up with Magnus with his back pressed against the wall and Alec standing in front of him, one hand leaning against the wall beside his head and the other wrapped around Magnus' wrist on the hand still holding the scarf. Magnus looks him in the eye, an amused smile playing at his lips. Alec finds his eyes straying across Magnus' features, the scarf forgotten.

"Just kiss me already," Magnus says quietly. "I promise I won't bite."

"How is that supposed to reassure me?" Alec replies, equally quietly.

He leans in to capture Magnus' lips in a kiss. Their hands fall and the scarf drops, pooling across the floor by their feet. The sun shines in.

"We should…" Alec starts as they pull apart, mumbling against Magnus' lips. "We should do that more."

Magnus nods slowly, staring into Alec's eyes. "I think you might be right," he says.

 

**February 14** **th** **, 1967 – San Francisco, Castro – Twin Peaks Tavern**

 

The bar is  _loud_. That's all that Alec can really say as they walk in. Magnus seems to know his way around and navigates them towards the counter like an expert. Alec suppresses the twinge of jealousy at the thought of Magnus coming here with someone else, because really, it's none of his business what Magnus does and doesn't do – or has or hasn't done in the past. It's not like they're married, or that they could get married, or that they'd want to—

Alec shakes his head and places his order, a whiskey on rocks to wash away the sudden bad taste in his mouth. Magnus pays for it and ignores any and all complaints Alec has.

"It's Valentine's," he shouts over the band. "My treat."

Alec doesn't complain after that. If Magnus wants to treat him for something as stupid as Valentine's Day, then who is he to refuse that?

They stay by the counter for some time, talking. Alec notices other men noticing Magnus, and does his best to not pay it any mind. Magnus is, well,  _Magnus_ – of course, he's going to attract attention. It's not Alec's business, he thinks almost aggressively. None at all.

Magnus, for all his genius, doesn't seem to notice. He continues to buy them drinks and laugh at Alec's jokes and occasionally plant kisses on his lips, or jaw, or anywhere he's able to reach, it seems. Alec finds himself having fun, which generally comes out of spending time with Magnus.

It's easy. It's so easy that sometimes Alec wants to cry, because sometimes (most of the time) people are difficult and hard to understand, and even harder to be with. But Magnus isn't. He doesn't mind the awkward silences, or the nerves, or any of it. He seems to embrace Alec's flaws rather than bring him down for them, and Alec tries his best to do the same for him. It seems only fair, and besides – he wants to. He wants to celebrate everything there is about Magnus.

It scares him a little, in the early hours of dawn. That it's so sudden. But then he thinks about the two of them, and the simplicity of it all, and how short life truly is – and then he doesn't mind. He doesn't mind at all.

It's past midnight when they find themselves in the bathroom, kissing through smoke and the taste of liquor. Alec's high, and he thinks Magnus might be too, but he frankly can't recall any details. The world is hazy and blurred at the edges like an old photograph. Everything feels soft – Magnus' hands on his hips, his lips on Alec's, the wall against his back.

Alec blinks blearily and pulls back to look at Magnus.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbles. He takes a final drag of his cigarette, throws it on the floor and stomps on it absently. "So—there's something so incredible about you."

Magnus smiles. "I'm flattered," he says. His eyes seem warm, in the same way that Alec  _feels_ warm, and all of it is just so goddamn  _nice_.

"This is my first real Valentine's Day," Alec says. He blinks, and the world swims a little. The glitter on Magnus' cheeks seems to pierce through his eyes. "Did you know that?"

Magnus presses a kiss on his forehead. "You told me," he says. His words are slurred, and Alec can't tell if it's because of him or Magnus. "Remember? Before we came here?"

Alec can't remember. Nothing seems to exist except now and here. He shakes his head in a no, and laughs a little. "This is so…" But he can't think of the words, so instead, he kisses Magnus again, raw and free.

"So nice?" Magnus asks in between kisses that Alec loses count of.

"'S not strong enough," Alec argues. "There are no words strong enough."

"No," Magnus agrees. "There really aren't."

 

**February 27** **th** **, 1967 – San Francisco – University of San Francisco**

 

The library is nice and quiet most of the time. Alec likes spending time here for those reasons. It's almost calming, just him and the books, and the papers he's working on. He's doing a half-hearted course on social studies, but he's not on campus most of the time, and when he is, he doesn't pay too much attention, so he's fairly certain he'll flunk it.

It doesn't matter. His life will find a new path if this one doesn't work out.

He's been making notes for some time now, scribbling away about women's rights and gender equality, when there's a tap on his shoulder. Alec, startled, turns around to shoot the person a glare—

It's Magnus.

He's wearing golden hoop rings on his ears, and tweed, which shouldn't work but does. He looks like a muted version of his normal self, for whatever reason, but Alec thinks he'll like any version of Magnus possible so he doesn't say anything.

Magnus offers him a bouquet of assorted flowers with a hesitant smile.

"I thought you might need cheering up," he explains as Alec takes the bouquet. "Studying can be a bitch."

Alec thinks he probably picked the flowers himself, which makes it all the more thoughtful. There are dandelions, asters, buttercups, some other flowers Alec can't name. It's beautiful.

"Thank you," he says, holding the flowers with care. "That's so…" He thinks of a word. "Sweet."

Magnus flops down next to him and pulls Alec's notes closer to him. His face turns into a smile as he reads further.

"Feminism?" He asks, handing the notes back. "Didn't think you were the type for that."

Alec shrugs, not sure if he's being mocked or not. "My sister gives lectures," he says as an explanation. "I support her."

Magnus looks at him for a while. Finally, he seems to relax, the tension in his shoulders physically deflating. "You're serious." He sounds relieved. "That's good. I was afraid you'd be one of those backwards assholes."

Alec quirks a brow. "Why would I do a course on social studies if I weren't serious?"

"I've met people," Magnus says grimly. He doesn't elaborate further, and Alec doesn't ask.

They stay in the library until Alec's finished his notes, and then leave together. Magnus walks him home. As they approach Alec's front door, there's an odd tension in the air. It's not until they stop, facing each other, that Alec realises it's because this is the part where they'd kiss.

"Well," Magnus says, smiling. It's a little bit sad at the edges. "I'll see you later."

Alec nods, silent. He glances up and down the street. It's desolated. He has butterflies in his stomach and his hands are shaking but he leans closer for a kiss. It's brief, and quick, but it makes Magnus smile from ear to ear so Alec thinks it's worth it.

 

**March 3** **rd** **–4** **th** **, 1967 – I-76 and I-80 Highways**

 

Alec's car is a piece of shit, but it's all they have between the two of them. Jace had refused to borrow his, and Izzy doesn't even have a license. Magnus tells Alec he can't be bothered buying something he'll never use, which only prompts Alec to mention the seemingly millions of candles in his living room that he seems to never burn out of sentimentality. Magnus tells him he's silly, and besides, candles are infinitely cheaper than cars. Then he kisses him, and Alec – well, he can't argue with that.

So, they pack their things early in the morning and settle into Alec's Ford Mustang and set for Washington, DC.

The radio's blasting for the first three hours or so, and neither of them talk much. They speed down the highway. Magnus has propped his feet up against the dashboard; Alec doesn't have the heart to tell him to put them down.

There's going to be a protest against the war in Vietnam on the 17th, and Magnus had suggested they go spend some time in Washington before that. Alec, not being able to think of reasons to not go, had agreed. He's never been to Washington, has never really left the San Francisco area. It's about time, he thinks, that he sees more of the world.

One day, he'll travel to Europe. Take a ship across the Atlantic and see what there is to see. One day.

By the fourth hour, they both realize just how long it takes to drive across the entire country. The radio has exhausted itself, and so Alec turns it down slightly.

"You know, driving for two days straight is a really good test of a relationship," Magnus says. He turns his head, still leaning against the seat, so that he can look at Alec through his sunglasses. There's something endearing about the gesture. Alec smiles.

"I'd think so," he says. The word  _relationship_ is burning in his mind pleasantly. The wind is ruffling his hair. It's too cold, but he doesn't mind. "We'll have to stop by a motel somewhere for the night."

Magnus nods. "Somewhere, preferably, where we won't get killed or robbed in our sleep."

"That would be a decent goal," Alec agrees. "I only just bought these shoes, would be a shame if someone were to steal them."

He can't see through the glasses but Alec thinks he can feel Magnus giving him a  _look_. "Oh," he drawls, "don't worry, I think those shoes are quite safe."

Alec swats at his arm.

They find a motel to stay at that seems reputable enough for them to trust to survive the night. They get a room, double, and push the beds together once they settle in. They're living off one large suitcase, borrowing each other's clothes almost naturally.

The motel doesn't offer dinner, nor does it have a store. They eat the sandwiches they prepared that morning and doze off early on, with Alec's arm wrapped around Magnus' waist and their legs tangled together.

Alec wakes up once during the night after dreaming of someone breaking into their room. He glances around the dark room and allows his heart beat to only calm down once he's certain there's no one there but him and Magnus. The weight of Magnus arm on his stomach grounds him back to reality soon. He doesn't fall asleep again for another hour or two.

The next morning, they take off towards Washington with Magnus driving. Alec sits for some hours solving crossword puzzles as the radio plays  _Wouldn't It Be Nice_ between steady intervals. He finds himself humming along the first few times, then singing quietly. By the time they hear it for the sixth time, he and Magnus blast the song louder than they should and sign along together, laughing at the annoyed stares they get from people driving past them.

They reach Washington as the sun's about to set.

Alec's almost sad that the journey is over.

 

**March 16** **th** **–17** **th** **, 1967 – Washington DC – Pentagon**

 

"Do you think the war will end because of this?" Alec asks, genuinely curious to hear Magnus' thoughts on the matter.

They're lying on the steps of the Washington Monument, side by side, not quite daring to hold hands. Their arms are pressed against each other from shoulder to wrist. Alec's free hand is resting on his stomach, carefree and relaxed. The sky is a nice evening purple and pink, almost like from a painting. Alec wonders if he could convince Magnus to paint him a skyline someday.

Magnus is a terrific painter. He says he had to learn to paint to make money when he was younger, which Alec supposes is a better alternative than some other methods of making profit he can think of. He can do sceneries, people, assortments – anything, really. It's almost like magic. Alec likes to watch him paint; it's when Magnus seems most open.

The clouds are rolling by lazily. Alec thinks he can notice some shapes in them – feathers, a face, a dove. He wonders if they mean anything, before brushing the thought off. He doesn't believe in divination.

"I hope it will," Magnus replies. "The government should have enough sense to listen to the masses, unless they're even bigger idiots than previously thought. I know that if I were the president, I'd want to keep the people at least somewhat satisfied."

Alec turns his head away from the clouds and looks at Magnus. His eyes are closed. "You're a good person, though," he says. "I don't think Johnson cares one way or another, so long as the country's making profit."

"But we're not." Magnus frowns. He opens his eyes and looks at Alec. "Making profit, I mean. So, I feel to see the motivation behind intervening on other countries' wars in the first place."

Alec doesn't respond. He doesn't know how to. Magnus has a point – there's no monetary gain, only losses across all the boards.

"Why can't we have peace?" He asks wistfully. "Just some pleasant world peace."

"We'll never have that," Magnus says with an air of finality. Then he huffs, apologetic. "But it's a sweet thought. I wish it could be a reality. It might be, if people weren't so horrible."

Alec hums in agreement. The clouds are shifting – the feathers become waves, the face intelligible, the dove flies away. "It's a shame."

"It is," Magnus agrees. "Though, who knows where the world ends up at. We might have a bright future ahead of us after all."

Alec hopes so, too.

They stay on the steps until its dark, and then move back to their hotel. Neither of them sleep much that night, preoccupied with thoughts of the world.

The next day, the join the protest in front of the Pentagon with signs they painted themselves a few days before. Alec's says  _UNCLE SAM IS A LIE_  in red and blue, Magnus' says  _WAR IS NOT A GAME OF CHESS_ in black. Alec's still not quite sure what Magnus is trying to convey with his sign, but it seems to gather some positive attention, so in the end, it doesn't matter.

They walk beside each other holding their signs high up.

It feels like they're trying to make a change, and Alec believes that if they try hard enough to get their voices heard, they'll be able to succeed. That the president will hear their cries and realise what a scam the entire war effort is and pull their troops out. That maybe there is a chance for something positive in the world.

The protest doesn't last long. The crowds dwindle and separate. Alec and Magnus head back to their hotel and leave that same evening for San Francisco.

 

**April 10** **th** **, 1967 – San Francisco – Southeast**

 

Alec has the apartment for himself for the night. Isabelle is in Nevada with their mother, and Jace is spending the night with a friend somewhere. Alec invited Magnus over on a whim. They've yet to spend time at Alec's place, for the simple reason of it never being unoccupied. He finds himself excited to show off his record collections and magazines, and their mediocre but lovable home.

Jace gives him suspicious looks the entire day until he leaves, because Alec can't help but tidy around the apartment in order to make it look more approachable, and not like an apartment run by three people in their mid-twenties.

He doesn't think he quite succeeds, but by the time Jace is out the door, the place doesn't look too worse for wear.

Magnus shows up with wine and a bright smile. It makes Alec's heart contract in an almost painful way. No one's ever brought him wine. No one's ever brought him anything, really. Magnus has made effort – there's golden string around the cork, tied into a ribbon and curled to look nice. Alec feels bad for cutting the string off before uncorking the wine.

"You really didn't have to," he says as he's pouring them glasses.

"I really did," Magnus says. He doesn't elaborate, but Alec thinks he understands.

This is as important to Magnus as it is to him.

They share the bottle between them and eventually settle on the couch, Magnus lying with his feet in Alec's lap. He watches as Magnus picks up a book and starts skimming through it absent-mindedly, eyes flickering across the pages. He's beautiful, and what's better – he looks like he fits. Like he fits in this couch, in this apartment, in this slice of life Alec's carved out for himself.

Alec realises, as he watches sunlight play on Magnus' dark hair, that he's in love.

It doesn't come across as much of a shock as he'd thought it would. He thinks perhaps it's been creeping up for some time now, but it was only now that he paid it any mind. It's not a scary thought. Instead, it's comforting. Almost like a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"What are you reading?" Alec asks instead of saying his thoughts aloud. It's too early.

Magnus shows him the cover, which reads,  _The Talented Mr. Ripley_.

"Ah," Alec exclaims. "That's a good one."

Magnus glances at him. "I always thought it was kind of sad," he says. "Tom never seems to find peace, poor thing."

Alec shrugs. "Life's not always happy," he says. "Sometimes, there is no peace. Sometimes, there are no easy and neat outcomes."

Magnus sets the book down on his chest. He stares at the roof, deep in thought. "Do you suppose we'll have an easy and neat outcome?" He asks after a while.

"What do you mean?" Alec asks, frowning.

"You know," Magnus says. "Together forever, married with two kids, white picket fence."

 _If we could, we would_ , Alec thinks, but he doesn't say it. "Hopefully something like that," he settles on. It seems safe enough.

Magnus doesn't reply, eyes still narrowed at the roof. After some time, he sighs and closes his eyes. "Sorry," he says. "Got lost inside my head."

"I don't mind," Alec says – and he doesn't. Magnus sometimes disappears for a while; Alec understands. He does it, too. "I'm used to it."

Magnus smiles, his eyes still closed. "That's an oddly comforting thought," he lets out. "That there is something to get used to it."

"It is," Alec agrees. "I think I like it."

"Yes," Magnus hums quietly. "Me too."

 

**April 30** **th** **, 1967 – San Francisco – Lone Mountain**

 

It's a cold evening. The sun's set already.

They had a picnic. Alec's laying with his head in Magnus' lap, eyes closed.

"Do you want grass?" Magnus' voice floats from above him.

"Yeah," Alec mumbles. He's already feeling sleepy, and he thinks maybe they should stay at the hills for the night. It'd be nice. Like a sleepover, but outside.

They smoke. Magnus curls up on the ground on top of their blanket, and Alec lays down next to him. They hold hands; Alec doesn't remember the last time they held hands outside. It's good to be able to.

"Should we stay?" Alec asks. His looking up at the stars. Some of them are twinkling. Alec wonders what it would be like to travel to space. It would be peaceful, he bets. All that big, vast nothingness. Cold, like the night air tonight, empty. Beautiful. Space sounds fascinating – maybe he should change majors.

Is he still in school, or did they boot him?

"Stay where?" Magnus asks back. His voice sounds far away, like an echo.

"Here," Alec says, "anywhere. Doesn't matter."

"Here?" Magnus sounds amused. "On the hills?"

Alec tries to shrug but doesn't really manage it. The ground feels cool; it seems to bend to his body shape, like a soft mattress. "Maybe. Why not?"

"I can think of a lot of reasons on why not," Magnus says. "One, robbery. Two, murder. Three, occultists—"

"Occultists?" Alec giggles. "We should do a sacrifice."

"Who are we sacrificing?"

Alec thinks about it for a while. "Lyndon B. Johnson," he decides. He laughs. "Could we do that?"

Magnus shakes with laughter against him.

"Yes," he says. "Yeah, we could."

They end up staying at the hills for the night.

 

**May 23** **rd** **, 1967 – San Francisco – Bernal Heights**

 

The flames of the candles are dancing slowly, a sway of back and forth. Alec watches them with glassy eyes, feeling dazed. He probably should've have smoked earlier. It's only that he'd been nervous, and it had seemed like it would take the edge off.

In a way, it had. In a way, he didn't quite feel like his arms belonged to him, now.

Magnus is off in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Alec's not sure what he's making, only that it smells fantastic and that he'll eat it no matter what, because he's been too anxious the entire day to eat anything. Jace had given him weird looks, and Isabelle had given him encouraging looks. She knew about Magnus; Jace knew vague details, but certainly not everything. Alec hadn't been anxious to tell them, but he couldn't help it. They were his siblings – they knew everything about him.

Magnus had proposed dinner plans the previous week as an afterthought, and Alec had agreed without a second thought. On hindsight, perhaps he should've given it that second thought, because it had only struck him this morning that 'dinner' with his 'boyfriend' sounded awfully official and certainly like something he'd manage to ruin without even trying.

Horror scenarios play across his mind. He'd accidentally set the apartment on fire. He'd say something inappropriate about Magnus' cooking. He'd blurt out his feelings over a simple  _dinner_.

The flames continue to dance across his vision. Alec blinks and tears his eyes away just as Magnus returns from the kitchen with two plates, smiling warmly.

He's made chicken. Alec thinks it's a smart choice. Everybody loves chicken.

He feels himself panicking.

"Uh," Alec starts, grabbing his fork forcefully. "I don't feel too well."

Magnus shoots him a worried look and frowns. "What's wrong?"

Alec makes vague hand gestures. "This is a lot," he says. "Dinner. This. Everything."

Magnus makes a move like he's about to stand up but stops halfway through, crouched awkwardly over the table. "Alexander?"

"I think," Alec says, feeling hazy, "that I love you."

There's a heavy silence following his words. Alec regrets them immediately – now is not the time, nor the place, and who even says something like that so casually? He's frozen on the spot though, still clutching his fork in his right hand.

Magnus stares at him for a while, looking confused. Then he deflates and falls back on his chair, blinking slowly. "You…" He starts, pausing to lick his lips. "Love me?"

Alec manages a weak nod. "I didn't mean to… I mean, I don't want to put you on the spot, and it's really not that big of a deal, so, don't worry about it—"

"Alec," Magnus interrupts softly. He reaches across the table to splay his fingers atop Alec's. "It's alright. I think I love you, too."

"You think?" Alec asks. His heart's beating fast. His chest feels tight.  _He thinks?_

"I do," Magnus amends. "I know I do." There's a pause. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Alec breathes out. His face finally breaks into a disbelieving smile. "Yeah, that's—yeah."

"Good," Magnus says. He smiles, and it's the most gorgeous thing Alec's even seen. "That's good."

"I think so," Alec manages.

They never do finish that dinner.


End file.
